


A Weight On Your Shoulders

by Barkour



Category: Prince of Persia (Video Game 2008)
Genre: During Canon, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-28
Updated: 2010-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 06:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He caught her hand as she cut through the air, long and graceful, her hair showering out behind her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Weight On Your Shoulders

He caught her hand as she cut through the air, long and graceful, her hair showering out behind her. Light shone off her. The weight dragged at his arm; his wrist twinged. He tightened his grip on the vines. She swung up onto his back. Her hands folded together against his collar, as if she prayed, and wouldn't that little remark go over well.

"You're heavier than you look," he grunted instead.

She hooked her knees up against his waist. She tilted her head to speak to him. Her hair tickled his throat. Her chest pressed to his back, soft, then hard. The desert was hot, but so, too, was Elika.

"You're slower than you look," she said. "Hurry up. There isn't much time."

He tested the vines next, pulling at the growth to see how it held. "It'd be a lot easier if you'd just fly us over."

She was silent a moment. As he crept along the wall, she swayed, heavy at his back. Her toes, bare and dry with desert sand, brushed his calves, a faint and creeping sensation through the light cloth of his trousers. Her fingers were very still on his chest.

"Ormazd's gift," she said. "I don't want to waste it." Her fingers tightened on his skin. Her knee hitched higher. "A light seed," she said. "There, in that corner." She pointed, and he followed the shivering of her torn sleeve, the line of her finger, shining blue.

"Oh, sure," he said. "Right away. My pleasure to escort you from one end of this gaping chasm to the other."

Her breath puffed in his ear. She was amused. Well, she could afford to be. She wasn't carrying him on her back. He tried not to think about that. She shifted, her hips rolling down the small of his back.

"If you fall," she said, "I'll catch you."

"Thank you," he said, "that's very comforting. I appreciate your vote of confidence."

"I caught you the last few times," she said. "You could trust me."

"You could trust me," he said. If she hadn't been hanging from his throat, he might have smashed his face on the rock. What a line.

The fingers of her left hand curled, near to his throat. The fingers of her right straightened. She rested her chin on his shoulder. She rolled with him as he sidestepped a small ledge which jutted out from the vines which twisted thick and green about it. Her knees trembled against his thighs, then stilled. Her left hand tightened into a fist.

"I do," she said at last. She turned her face away.

He dug his boots into a small hold in the rockface, where the vines dwindled, then fell away.

"Hey, princess," he said.

"Do not call me that," she said again. "My name is Elika."

"Right," he said, "Princess Elika. Got it. We have to run."

She slipped away from him then, her dark fingers knotting in the vines, her right hand trailing across his shoulders as she slid off his back. Her toes curled, the big toes hooking in the thinner vines below.

He said, "You good?" and she rolled her eyes at him. He wondered, suddenly, if she had climbed these very vines before, as a child maybe, or a girl, gawkish and young.

"All right," he said, and he spidered out onto the rock.


End file.
